Gaol Time
by A Stern Glare
Summary: The story you deserve: Basically, a better version of Cowboys and Huntsmen. Jaune lived his life for the purpose of love. He loved his family, and to Hell with everyone else. Then why does Summer believe he could be so much more? Can he really?
1. Chapter 1

_ I'm glad Dad's dead. I enjoyed it._

_-Excerpt from Audio Journal, dated Winter 89, 73 PCW._

Tuesday would forever be engraved as the day Jaune had lost all patience. There was only so much any man could take before something in him snapped, and Jaune simply had the strength to skip straight over the crying in a corner in the fetal position, and move onto doing something about it.

Another smack across his mother's face caused his sisters to duck and flinch, but he wouldn't be cowed anymore. He gave each of his sister's a look, and without saying a word, they knew what to do. Each of them funneled out of the kitchen one or two at a time. It wasn't unusual for Jaune to clear the house to protect his sisters, nor was it unusual for him to hobble out of the house with a broken arm, but his sisters loved him even more for it. He slowly slipped out of the kitchen, into the mud room and opened the toolkit kept there. He could hear the quiet pitter patter of his last sister leaving the house, and he grabbed what he needed.

He reentered the kitchen and swung his fist at his father, expecting nothing but a bruised knuckle for his trouble, and that was all he got, but as his father turned to face him, he swung with his other hand, which was currently tightly wrapped around a hefty metal mallet. The hammer connected and his father collapsed like a sack of potatoes. Jaune didn't wait to see whether or not he would get up, because Jaune knew that this wouldn't end until he couldn't get up. He straddled his father menacingly and knelt over him, bringing the hammer up and slamming it down, _**once**_ for the pleas from his sisters' rooms. They would scream for help, and beg for him to stop, but Jaune could do nothing but curse his cowardice, entwined in his own covers with tears streaming down his skin. _**Twice**_ for the bruises on his mother's face, the blazing red palm prints that stayed for hours, and the whimpers she would try to suppress as she limped through her morning routine. _**Three times**_ for the black eyes his sisters couldn't hide with makeup, and for the broken bones that they couldn't go to the doctor for. _**Four times**_ for his own broken bones, and _**five times**_ because he had been too much of a coward to do this sooner. He turned, eyes ablaze as he looked up toward a sound in the doorway.

It was his mother who had just vomited at the sight of her firstborn son crouched over the bleeding mess of his father. It was impossible to tell who the lump of red, gray and occasional flecks of white had once been. The only sign that the pulp had once been a person's head was patches of trimmed blonde hair on the floor. Jaune stood up and began to pant. Two sides of him warred over how he should feel. Part of him wanted nothing more than to vomit like his mother, while the other half of him felt elated that he had just rid the world of scum the likes of his father. He knew what came next, but he couldn't do it alone. He turned to his mother and said quietly "Go get the tarp."

The house reeked of blood, but past the fog of his own hot breath on the mask he wore, Jaune couldn't tell. He still held the thick, heavy mallet in his left hand but now he also had a butcher's cleaver in the other. "Jaune, why? What could- how?"

"A better question is why not sooner?" Jaune looked down at the mess of towels, dyed red all across the floor and again suppressed the elation he had felt as he bashed in his father's brains. "Once we're done cleaning this up, we can just say he's on a business trip. You of all people know that one day he just wasn't going to come back."

"But why- why now?" His mother took another handful of stained red towels and threw them into the tarp. "What made you snap like this?"

Jaune paused in his almost robotic cleaning attempts and looked up at his mother. It made plenty of sense to him, maybe she was just still in shock. "Isn't it obvious?"

"NO! NO, it's not obvious! This is heinous! I- I can barely look at you!" Jaune's chest tightened and his breath hitched, but before he could respond, his mother's eyes began to turn misty and she sniffed a few times. "Jaune, I love you, but how could you do this?"

Jaune felt so confused as he looked up at his mother. How could she not know? She was so smart, but the concept seemed to escape her. He had discussed it with his sisters, and they were all in accordance; the bastard had to go. His head tilted to the side and he said calmly.

"Because I love you." Jaune stared his mother in the eye and she shook, tears streaming down her face as she stepped away from the wall and ran out of the room, her feet slapping across the hardwood floor, as she retched through her fingers. If she wouldn't help him, Jaune would dispose of his father himself.

The Arc Patriarch was not missed. The wounds he left behind healed, the scars mended, and eventually, they forgot. Jaune sawed his father into pieces, small enough to fit in a large trash bag, but it was slow going. The trash man would probably never realize it, but he had been complicit in disposing an entire corpse, over the span of three months and twenty-seven bags.

For a brief, hazy few weeks, Jaune thought that his problems were taken care of. His father was gone, his mom was slowly getting comfortable around him, and his sisters thought he was the bee's knees and a bag of chips. He spent his days going to school surrounded by idiots that were more of a nuisance than a threat, and he spent his evenings watching old movies and braiding hair with his sisters. His nights were full of nightmares, but he fought them the same way he fought his father: with rage and brute strength. The nightmares realized that they couldn't frighten him, and that terrified them.

Those were the golden days that Jaune would remember when the dark times came, and the dark times would come.

The knocking on the front door was louder than any polite company would dare to use, and that instantly put Jaune on edge. Jaune's room was closest to the door and he stalked to the door in an unnatural silence. He tore the door open, shocking the two men and causing them to baulk before a boy that wouldn't hesitate to kill them, even if he died trying. "Yes?"

"Is Mr. Arc here?" A tall, hulking man grunted, readjusting his persona of a strong-willed, gruff enforcer. He adjusted his tacky red glasses and cracked his neck, obviously trying to intimidate a boy that he probably thought was easy pickings. "We're here to talk about a financial agreement that he made with our company a while back."

Jaune read between the lines; _Your old man owes us money. Pay up._

"He's dead." The two men gave a disconcerted grunt and pushed past Jaune. He followed cautiously, giving his sisters the same warning that he used to give when his father got home. They knew what it meant. Head to their rooms and pray that their father wasn't drunk. The two men pulled hatchets out of their coats and started to smash things in the living room.

"When will your mother be back?" One of them asked before he slammed his hatchet into the coffee table. "If your dad can't pay, she will."

"She's working a double shift, she won't be here for a while." The second man strode toward Jaune and gripped him by the collar. "Wait! Wait! We have a nest egg in the kitchen! I'll go get it!"

"Make it fast, kid, or else we'll break something more valuable than furniture." Jaune rushed into the kitchen and let his mind whirl. He dashed to the drawer with the money in it and saw the perfect weapon.

_I'll still need a distraction. Something to make them take down their defenses. _He scanned the kitchen and found exactly what he needed. _Now this is a plan._

"I have the money." Jaune yelled from the kitchen, preparing his trap He walked out with the box of money laying on top of his arms. _I have to be fast. I'll have less than five seconds for my distraction. _"Here."

One of the men reached out for the box, and as he began to pull open the lid, Jaune struck, spraying multi-purpose cleaner right into the eyes of the other gangster, blinding him long enough for Jaune to slam the meat tenderizer into the side of his head. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, and before the box of money had hit the floor and the other man had drawn his hatchet, Jaune had already blinded him as well with the spray. It took two hits this time for the man to collapse. Jaune looked down at his handiwork and smiled in manic victory before the truth hit him: How was he supposed to deal with the bodies?

The two men woke up in a field, stripped of their clothes, down to their boxers, dazed and confused. The kid was in front of them, digging a hole, and Jose and Henry dreaded to think what that hole was for. "One of you dies out here, and one of you goes back to your boss and gives him a message."

"What are you talking about? What message?" Henry began to struggle, trying to cut the rope or at least loosen it. Jose saw him and began to do the same thing. "I'm gonna kill you, you little shit."

"My message is simple." Jaune stopped digging and faced the men. "You're going to tell him what you saw here today, and you're going to tell him that the only mistake greater than threatening my family, is actually hurting them. Okay?"

"When we get out of this, we're gonna fuck you up!" Henry shouted angrily. He tried to stand up, but as he moved, he felt a faint tug around his neck. He looked to the ground and saw a cinder block woven with razor wire. "You're fucking crazy."

"No, I'm just angry." Jaune tossed another clump of dirt out of the pit and it hit Henry in the face, causing him to splutter and cough. "You put my sisters in danger. You tried to steal from my mom, who is barely making enough money to feed us, and you wrecked my home. I'm not crazy, I'm doing what I have to do."

The hole took an hour and a half, and Jaune dragged Henry to the side of the hole, looking Jose in the eye and raising the shovel. Jose knew what he was going to do. What the fuck was this kid? Jaune looked down at Henry and then back to Jose, before slamming it into Henry's head. Henry's head caved in with the first hit, blood splattering onto Jaune's legs. He kept eye contact with Jose and slammed the shovel into his head again. Blood splattered onto Jaune's hands and chest, and Jose began to gag. The third time that Jaune slammed the shovel into his skull, Henry's head was flattened, and blood splashed on his face. "Do you get it now?"

"Yeah...yeah...I get it…" He had pissed himself and somehow he still couldn't find it in himself to feel shame beyond the fear. He understood, and he wouldn't be back, no one would.

"If you get it, go and never come back. Remember this, and run away." Jaune snipped the razor wire and Jose ran like a bat out of hell.

The next visitor to the Arc house was far more pleasant. A tall, redheaded man, stalked through the streets, eyes hidden behind thick rimmed glasses. He smiled and nodded at everyone he passed, twirling a cane. When he arrived at the Arc home, he knocked politely on the door and smiled. He missed Naomi, and despite her horrible taste in men, she was still one of his best friends, and his first love. However, Naomi didn't open the door, a young woman in a wheelchair, probably Naomi's daughter did.

"Hello, I'm Solomon. Is your mom home?" Saffron cocked her head to the side and hollered loudly.

"Jaune! There's some strange guy at the door!" Solomon smiled, expecting a nervous or falsely happy babysitter to come to the door, but instead, a blond boy, younger than the earlier girl came to the door with a butcher's knife and a bottle of glass cleaner.

"You should go back into the living room with your sisters." Jaune warned Saffron, his eyes and the barrel of his spray bottle fixed firmly on Solomon's eyes. "Hello."

"Is this Naomi's house?" Solomon leaned back and looked up toward the second floor. Jaune didn't look away from Solomon, simply nodding quietly. The ginger man looked him up and down and gave a noncommittal shrug. "Could you at least give this to your mother?"

"Sorry about that scrawl, I'm a doctor, it's par for the course." Solomon pulled out a small leather bound notebook and pen and scribbled out seven numbers and a name. He handed it to Jaune who struggled to read the name.

"Solomon Torchwick?"

"That's me." He smiled and slid off his glasses, sticking his hand out for Jaune to shake. "Just let your mother know that I stopped by."

Jaune looked into his eyes and gave him a hesitant "Mm-hm"

Solomon wasn't worried though, Naomi was smart and she knew that Solomon's offer was the best she would get. He just hoped that she would actually get the note from her son. He wasn't entirely convinced.

Jaune thought, as he tended to, about how to support his sisters. Naomi brought home the bacon, but the bacon was running thinner and thinner. Jaune had a sharp mind, an abounding amount of energy, and a brutality that probably stemmed from his father's abuse. Regrettably, his talents ended there, leaving his opportunities bordering on nonexistent. His father stained his entire family's name, leaving any Arc in the cacky when looking for work in the village. That left Jaune with only three options, he could seek a job out of town, swallow his pride and apply for one of the nearby mines, or do something illegal.

_Legalities were for the weak, or the lucky_.

Stealing was right out, because Jaune was about five and a half feet tall, klumzy, and not very skilled. Jaune didn't want to be a second blight on the Arc name, not when it used to mean something. Gambling was no good because Jaune was too young to get in, and no proper hall let any Arc's gamble anymore, not since his dad had left a debt of twenty-thousand lien. So, without any other options, his thoughts turned to The Brawl.

There were no rules in The Brawl, no pads, no weight class, no age limit, no taboos, just winning. Even that only mattered a little. The winner walked away with prize money, the loser got stitched up, was given five percent of the pot, and encouraged to not try again. Jaune knew three people that had tried The Brawl, and two of them were still participating. If he could talk to one of them, he could get in. There was no way he could win, not with his fists, but he didn't have to worry about that, the pots were huge, and he could explain the injuries that he would no doubt incur with a simple story about a sports accident. He could even blame some bullies at school, if worse came to worst.

"Kids! I'm home!" Jaune almost hopped out of his seat in surprise. His mom wasn't supposed to be back for another hour. Horrible situations ran through his head like a nightmare movie theater. Did she get hurt? Was she fired? Did her job shut down? Was she sick? Paranoia was a very common trait in Jaune, it made reality more predictable and less disappointing.

"You're home early." Lilly said happily, wrapping her remaining arm around her mother. Another souvenir from the late Arc. Lilly was one of the lucky ones. She escaped the house for months after losing her arm. More time where her father couldn't touch her, and once he had seen her, 'damaged', he stopped touching her at night as well.

Jaune surged into the room and greeted his mom with a powerful hug. She stiffened for a moment, but relaxed just as quickly and hugged him back. She was still scared of Jaune, but she loved him, no matter what he had done, or how-...broken he was. "How are you doing?"

"It's going fine, there was a water main break at the bar, so I got sent home early. Some guy ended up crying on the bar. He kept on moaning about bad luck and booze." She gave a small snort as Jaune backed up and Saffron wheeled into the front room Jaune felt like there was still something bubbling, but he let it go.. "But all's well that ends well. I got to go home early with my full day's pay, and now we can have a movie night."

Jaune grinned as his mom moved into the kitchen. She loved cooking, especially anything other than greasy bar food. There was an edge to Naomi's voice though, and Jaune didn't like what it meant. She mentioned the man at the bar for a reason, he was sure of it. He just wished he could meet the guy himself to find out. "I'm going to be out tomorrow with some friends, we're going hiking."

Jaune didn't have friends, he didn't much like hiking, and he didn't like lying to his mother, but the first rule of The Brawl was that you don't talk about The Brawl.

Jaune knew that he wasn't strong enough to win a fair fight, especially when there were weapons being used, but he'd be damned if that stopped him. The first fight would be hard, but not impossible. First, he had to go grocery shopping. The produce section was his first stop, he picked up some nice ripe habaneros, a few onions and some lemons, content with that, he went to the appliance aisle and picked up a basting tool. Next stop: the hardware store. He picked up some duct tape, vinyl tubing, plumbing tape, and a pipe tree. Then was home, to build what would soon be known as "The Blinder". Not a great name, but these were kids that beat the crap out of each other for money, they weren't exactly MENSA material.

First, Jaune cut up and juiced the peppers, lemons and onions, quickly bottling the juice and putting a lid on it, to protect his eyes. Then he began to assemble his weapon of sight destruction. He used the basting tool as a container for his noxious concoction and attached the pipe to his palm to his palm to create pressure and used tubing to connect the two, running some experiments with water to make sure that there were no leaks and using the plumbers tape and duct tape to cover any leaks he did find. He didn't want any misfires, that would be painful. Upon loading his weapon and turning the safety on (He closed the pipe tree), Jaune set off for his first Brawl.

Jaune arrived when the first fight had just ended. He was wrapped from head to toe in cloth. His mouth covered with a bandana, his eyes with a pair of stupid looking goggles and his hair covered with a thick woolen cap. There was no way anyone would know who he was. No one cared though. Names didn't matter here, all that mattered was a good fight. People fought with thick clothing all the time, trying to lessen the bruises, but it didn't work, not with the weapons that people used here. The older guys were quick to sniff out fresh meat, and even quicker to end any notions that they were anywhere above the bottom of the food chain. Jaune was shoved into the Pit with a guy that seemed to have a permanent glower on his face and bright red hair. Jaune didn't release the safety just yet, until he saw the kid pull out the knife, then all bets were off. Jaune was very still for a few seconds until the knife wielding kid charged at him with a yell.

Three feet away

Two feet away

Finally the kid was inside arm's reach, and Jaune shoved his palm into the boy's face and pulled the trigger of his hidden weapon. The boy reeled back screaming. He dropped the knife to paw at his eyes and as soon as he saw the opening, Jaune brought his knee up into the boy's crotch and as he knelt over in pain, Jaune grabbed him by the horns that grew out of the top of his head and shoved his knee into his face over and over again, and finally let go, only to drop his elbow into the neck of his opponent.

The red-haired boy, stunned, staggered back with his eyes clenched shut. Jaune sprinted to his knife and clumsily tossed it out of the ring. "No more knives."

Jaune gritted his teeth and dashed toward the other kid. The poor guy probably hadn't done anything wrong, he was just in the wrong fight. Jaune had nothing against the kid, but his family needed money, and there was nothing he wouldn't do for family.

The money was good. Jaune walked away with an easy hundred dollars, but something else was better. That same thing that killed Jaune's dad was happy, and it was for that same reason that Jaune decided that he would be back. The money was good, but the pain was better.


	2. Pain for Everyone

Jaune got better at causing pain as he continued his one man blight. Soon the older kids kids began to notice him, and realized that something had to be done about Jaune. The most brutal of the older kids stepped into the ring with him one day, and it didn't end well.

The kid swung his blackjack like a baton and hit Jaune's knuckles, or it would have, if Jaune hadn't prepared for today with one of his best tricks. Thick lug nuts on all four of his punching fingers. He swung his other fist toward the boy's head, but as the boy brought his arm up, Jaune pulled out one of his favorite tricks, the kneecapper. The boy realized too late that he had raised both of his arms, and like a true fighter, Jaune stomped on his kneecap with his steel soled shoe, and took the opponent down like a sack of bricks. The boy was on his knees, and he tried to pull a trick out of Jaune's playbook; the nut shot. Jaune went down too, falling onto his side and trying to blink the stars out of his eyes. He felt bile build up in his throat but held it in, crawling toward his opponent as he tried to pull himself off of the ground. Jaune made a last lunge and tackled the boy as well as he could and knocked his head into the boy's side. The two went down and as Jaune's opponent tried to slam his blackjack into Jaune's face, Jaune spat bile into the other boy's face, causing him to scream and whimper. Jaune then grabbed his ears and slammed his forehead into the boy's nose once, twice, three times until the boy went limp and stopped moving.

Jaune tried to stand up, but as he moved toward the oldest boy, the one who gave out the money, an explosion of light and sound enveloped the room.

"Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?" The police officer looked at Jaune through a squint, her glare was lost on Jaune, he had been through more pain in his life than she could ever threaten him with. Her nose was broken and blood was dripping down into her mouth. Jaune had bashed his forehead into her face three times as she dragged him away from the person that he was fighting. He hadn't even noticed that the officer had tackled him, in his own little world that consisted of him, his opponent and money. The other kid was in the back of an ambulance, his eyes probably still rolling around the back of his skull. Jaune discovered very quickly that he was very good at being vicious...and winning, he was very good at winning. "Knowing these rights, do you wish to speak to me?"

"Are you going to tell my mom about this?" The police officer gritted her teeth and nodded. She didn't like dealing with children, they usually cried or demanded insane things, but this kid was even worse, because he didn't cry. In fact, the boy had asked the second strangest question she had ever received while arresting someone. The first strangest being: _Can we get tacos on our way to the station?_

"Can you wait to tell her until after her shift? She's working seven to three at Gestapo's Grill, and she needs the tips."

"We'll see what we can do kid." Jaune didn't bother saying anything else on the drive to the police station, because there was nothing left to say. There wasn't going to be a deal; not after headbutting a cop in the face three times. He couldn't cry, not after the things he had seen, and done. He couldn't even feel guilty, because he had done it for his family, and he wouldn't apologize for that. "Because you're a child, you're entitled to a child advocate. She'll be meeting us at the station."

"How much will that cost?" Jaune's fist clenched and unclenched, matching his breathing. He looked out of the windows as the cityscape zipped past. The cop in the front seat gave a snort, giving Jaune a slightly smug spark of joy. Her broken nose was his badge of honor. "We can't really afford a lawyer right now."

The patrol car pulled into the precinct parking lot and the officer opened the door. He didn't bother pulling on Jaune's arm, simply stepping aside to let the kid through the door. He wasn't going anywhere, not with how much pain he was in. "Kid, you're not right, you know that?"

"I hop into a ring of kids and beat them up to make enough money to buy groceries for my sisters. I noticed that a while ago." Jaune shot the cop a dull glare, but the cop didn't respond. The police officer hesitated, she didn't fail to notice that he called the kids he beat up kids, even though most of them were older than himself. "If there's not something wrong with me, then there's something wrong with you, and that's worse."

The front of the precinct was what Jaune expected, pale walls with a bulletin board and a bulletproof window in front of a desk. It was a small town, but in a place where grimm were drawn to panic and confusion, law and order was a bit of a big deal. Thirty percent of the kids in Jaune's class talked about joining the force when they graduated, and another thirty percent actually prepared for it. "Is this the kid from the fighting ring?"

A gravelly drawl seemed to seep into the air from behind Jaune and the arresting officer. She paused and Jaune didn't, causing him to trip over her feet and land splayed out on the floor. A snort came from behind as the owner of the voice lifted him up by his belt and held him aloft like one might a small cat that was threatening to bite them. "He's barely taller than my niece."

"He's not right in the head." The arresting officer whispered to the taller man. "He's sent six kids to the hospital with a variety of injuries, two kids had concussions, one kid had pepper spray squirted into his eyes, another kid had his ear half torn off, and the latest one was the least lucky. The kid spit bile into his eyes, broke his kneecap and headbutted him so hard that he broke his nose. Those are just the ones we know about."

The grizzled man whistled lowly and looked Jaune in the eye. "Is that all?"

"What do you mean?" Jaune asked without looking away from Qrow, giving him the same look that he gave most men; the glare was pretty good. It worked on most people, but this guy just quirked an eyebrow.

"Hey, lady cop, give me a room, no cameras. I want to speak with my client." The cop gave him a strange look but didn't argue. Jaune quirked his eyebrow and the man smiled. "I'm Qrow Branwen, and I'm your lawyer."

"I've seen that look in your eye before.". Qrow started. "That's a look with no compunction about killing. I've met hardened criminals that don't have that look."

"I was born with this face." Jaune retorted, trying to buy time.

"I don't doubt it, but you got those eyes when you did something horrible. What did you do kid?" Qrow leaned forward and Jaune leaned back.

"I murdered my father and cut him into tiny pieces." Qrow sighed and leaned back and rubbed his brow.

"If you don't tell me the truth, I can't help you." He pulled a flask from his hip and took a swig. "Come on kid, work with me here."

"I beat a man to death with a shovel and buried him in the middle of the woods, and let his buddy run off to tell their gang not to mess with my family anymore." Qrow growled, but Jaune didn't flinch. "Don't believe me? Good."

"Fine, I give, I'll get you a child advocate, you'll pay thousands of dollars and you'll get enough jail time to complete college twice." Jaune's eyes widened and he jumped across the table, grabbing Qrow's hand.

"I'm not lying! I can show you where the body is!". Qrow's eyes narrowed at Jaune, and he stilled. "I can't prove my father, but if you see the body, will you believe me?"

"Show me, and I'll help you.". Qrow growled.

Jaune was in a pair of handcuffs attached to his waist, being followed by three police officers with ground penetrating radar and Qrow with a large blade. Jaune wasn't lost, he remembered dragging the two men through the forest like it was yesterday. He remembered the clearing where he buried Henry and he could remember the smell of urine as Jose sat, paralyzed, holding eye contact with Jaune as he slammed the shovel three times, spraying blood all over himself. "It's nearby, twenty meters up."

Qrow lifted his hands to stop the group and lurched forward, leaping at the last minute and slashing across and through a young tree, killing the Grimm approaching from behind it and crushing another farther up. "If this is a trap, kid, you'll have to do better than that."

"I just want my mom out of this." Jaune growled. "It's in this clearing."

The cops set up the ground penetrating radar and began to scan the glenn, quickly going off with a radar obstruction. The screen showed it as clear as day; a skeleton, laying on it's side without a skull."

"Shit." Qrow muttered. "You weren't lying."

"Not a word." Jaune reiterated, looking Qrow in the eye with a look that could only be considered begging. "Please...don't tell my mom."

The ride back to the station was awkward and tense, no one spoke. The only sound was Qrow gulping whatever was in his flask. "You'll be processed and convicted, probably sent to prison for twenty-five to life unless your story is pretty damn heart-warming."

Jaune remained silent for a while before he sighed and began to speak. "My father was a drunkard and an ass, and one day he's particularly mean to my mom, and so I went and took the mallet and came up behind him, and I punch him. It does nothing. So he turns around and as he moves, I swing the mallet and smash it into his temple, knocking him to the ground. I mount him and begin to hit him with the mallet until I know he won't be able to get up. Then...I cleaned up."

"And the other guy?" Qrow asked, scowling. "Was it worth it?"

I paid for my sisters' Solstice gifts and got my mom antibiotics for when she had an infection. I supplied for my family in a way that my father never did." Jaune growled and stared at the floor. "It was more than worth it for them."

"Okay." Qrow sighed and reached for the flask at his hip, only to stop as he saw Jaune's shoulders begin to shake. "You've killed people, kid. What the hell could you be crying about?"

"My mom's pay is getting cut." He came to a halt. "Can I earn money in prison?"

Qrow closed his eyes, he shouldn't have expected anything normal, but this was even farther off the deep end than he thought he would get. "Never been to prison kid, your guess is as good as mine."

"Isn't there a debtor's prison or something? Can't I go there to get money?" The pair reached the car at the edge of the forest and Qrow lost his cool.

"Look kid, you killed people! Do you know what that means?! That means that their families are never going to see them again. Their parents are going to roll out another place mat at every meal, waiting for their son to come home for dinner. Their families will lose someone that mattered to them!" Qrow only realized his mistake when Jaune gave a short laugh. He had killed his abusive father. That family was not going to wait with bated breath for him to come home. They were glad he was dead.

"Henry didn't have a family. His mother died ages ago, father was a deadbeat, and he never married. His job was his life. No pets, no lovers, no one to miss him." Jaune gave Qrow a bored look. "You can't make me feel guilty. If it wasn't them, it was my family. I made my choice, and I would do it again if I had to."

Qrow quirked an eyebrow and shook his head. He popped the door of the car and nodded for Jaune to get in. The ride back to the precinct was silent and tense. Jaune gritted his teeth as his mind whirled a thousand miles an hour. If he opened the door and hopped out, it would hurt, he would probably break something, but if he sprinted through the forest-... He had seen a guy dislocate his thumb to escape handcuffs, dislocation was nothing compared to some of the stuff he had done. He could make a run out of town into a larger town and get a new job, send money home and save up enough money to buy an apartment that would fit his family. He and his mom could cover rent, and Mistral probably had fight clubs too.

His thoughts were interrupted by Qrow slamming the door open. "Out."

Jaune tried to push his thumb like he had seen it done, but before he could try anything permanently scarring he heard a voice in front of him. "Ah! Jaune, it's been a while."

It was the red haired man: Solomon Torchwick

"Your mother and I have been corresponding for a while, and when she told me of your plight, I thought I'd see what I can do to help." Solomon quirked an eyebrow and gave a copy grin. "Looks like you're in deep shit."

"Solomon." Qrow nodded. "It's been a while."

"Vytal Festival, Doubles round, I kicked you and your sister's ass." Solomon frowned. "My partner was pissed at me after that."

"You used him as bait." Qrow grumbled.

Solomon laughed and waved his hand dismissively. "We'll talk about this over drinks later."

"I'm a bit busy right now. Later." Qrow moved to push Jaune forward, but Solomon's cane shot out faster than Jaune could see and smacked Qrow's hands away.

"Speaking of which, I'm going to need you to take your hands off of my son." Qrow's head shot toward Solomon at the same time as Jaune's did. "Naomi and I got married this morning and as such, Jaune is an official citizen of Menagerie and will be punished to the full extent of the law in Menagerie. In the meantime he will be held under house arrest unless considered a flight risk. Would you call a man who would kill in defense of his family a flight risk?"

Jaune's head was spinning faster and faster by the second. Qrow looked between the two and crinkled his brow. "How long did it take you to think this up?"

"Seven minutes." Solomon's face turned to stone. "You haven't answered my question yet. Would you call a man who killed in defense of his family a flight risk?"

Qrow sighed and let go of Jaune, motioning for Jaune to give him his hands. He unclasped the handcuffs. "He's not a flight risk, but he leaves on the next flight to Menagerie."

"Agreed." Solomon smiled brightly. "I'll take him home, alert his family and then we can get drinks."

Qrow just snorted and shook his head. "I'll go with, just to make sure."

Solomon stepped outside the precinct and approached a long, low to the ground motorcycle, and straddled it confidently, smirking at Jaune and Qrow. "Want a ride?"

"No." He muttered, striding down the road, hunched over and his hands in his pocket. Jaune looked at Solomon and leaned back.

"You don't have a choice, Jaune. We need to talk." Jaune backed away from the bike and tried to grab anything other than Solomon. "I don't bite Jaune, and it's not like there's anyone around to make fun of you."

"You don't know that." Solomon sighed and whipped his hand out, his arm suddenly extending with a cane that caught around Jaune's neck and pulled him onto the back of the motorcycle, flung across the seat like a saddlebag. Jaune wanted to squawk in protest, but before he could, Solomon had already taken off and the engine was too loud for Jaune to say much.

Qrow was there when they arrived, and he greeted them with a vague nod as they entered the house. Qrow took up a position near the door, his head still on a swivel, waiting for Solomon to finish his business with Jaune's mother.

Solomon's head popped out from the kitchen and he called out to Qrow. "I'll meet you at the pub, but first I need to have a talk with Jaune."

Qrow grunted, but he believed Solomon, he was just a bit sore about having his only lead stolen. Apparently the fighting ring was a recruiting racket for a terrorist organization in Vale. It was obvious though that Jaune wasn't a terrorist. So, back at square one.

"Jaune Arc, you impress me. You are by far one of the most clever people I have ever met." Solomon pushed on the garage door, causing it to creak ominously. "We do need to talk about some of your inventions though. They could use improvement."

Solomon picked up a turkey baster with a wrist-band attached to it. He examined it and nodded. "I put juice in there."

"Juice?"

"Lemon juice, pepper oil, and onion juice." Jaune tried his best to keep his voice even, steadying his breathing and almost making eye contact with Solomon.

"Ah. That kind of juice." Solomon put the baster down hesitantly. "It's a good idea in theory, but you lack any kind of distance. How close did your opponent get before he was in range?"

Jaune looked down guiltily, silently wondering why he was being berated for not making a more dangerous weapon. "He was two feet away."

"You're good Jaune, but if you had used a compressed pressure pump like you would find on a super soaker, you would get more distance and better pressure." Solomon put down the gun and continued down the line. "A homemade taser."

Jaune nodded and Solomon nodded along. "I got the idea from this one time I accidentally shocked myself fixing the lights in the kitchen."

"Where did you get the battery?" Solomon picked it up and hit the switch a few times, impressed by the arc of electricity that jumped between the two nodes.

"I had to try a few. I tried a nine volt, it wasn't strong enough. A six volt was way too heavy. I looked them up and I found the battery in our neighbor's motorcycle." Solomon nodded and put it back down.

"I can't find many flaws with this design, but it could be safer for you." Jaune nodded, inordinately proud of himself for making Solomon proud. "You're an excellent fighter, but you're not a very good combatant. I could make you so much more. There's a place I know of that could make you capable of protecting your family. They can make you strong."

"How…?"

"I've got a meeting. Talk to your mother and your sisters, they love you." Jaune sniffled and nodded. He began to walk toward the house, only to be stopped by Solomon from behind. "Jaune."

"Yeah?" Jaune stopped and finally caught Solomon's eye.

"I probably shouldn't say this, but I'm proud of you. You did what you had to to protect your family." Jaune paused and nodded, silent tears running down his face. Someone finally understood. Solomon understood.

**I'm not sure how I feel about this. I had a very detailed outline for this story, but I lost it in an accident. Now I must remake it from nothing but the thoughts of my mind. I also hate OC's usually but main character families are interesting to me because they demonstrate what causes the characters to become what they are.**

** Anyway...**

** But there is this...**

** Omake**

Roman Torchwick: DM

Campaign Name: Not Again

Setting: Western (Oregon Trail)

Ruby Rose: DM

Campaign Name: The Trials of Tickles

Setting: Horror Version of Sesame Street

Jaune Arc: DM

Campaign Name: Down with the Bourgeoisie

Setting: Fantasy Les Mis.

Neo Politan: DM

Campaign Name: It's a Small World

Setting: Post Apocalyptic Atlas

Pyrrha Nikos: DM

Campaign Name: The Castle of Temptation

Setting: Willie Wonka's Factory

All of this and more to come in my Omakes in the future. These will be set at random spots later on in the story.`


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